Children of War
by Detective-Mason
Summary: Some families are torn apart. Others lose everyone. Fifteen years after the Reaper War, life is completely different. Small glances into a few of the side characters that try to move on from the pain the war gave them. Inspired for Jona'Hazt nar Qwib Qwib. I felt so bad for him.
1. Chapter 1: Loss

Jona'Hazt stared outside the ship's window at the vastness expanse of space. Everything seemed peaceful yet hell had swept through a decade and a half ago. The flight to the Citadel had little delays. Escaping Rannoch was a necessity now. Anything to clear his thoughts. Its been fifteen years and a war. Now those wounds were fresh as ever.

_"Jona be strong for daddy. [explosion] Mommy loves you very much!"[gunshots]_

His mother's words echoed over and over in his head. In the depths of his father's belongings he found the old data vid. Hidden away. Maybe to show him one day. Maybe to remind his dad what he was fighting for…what he died for… It was fortunate Jona was alone when he discovered it; no one could see him falling to the floor in tears.

Only a week ago he was considering joining the Migrant fleet marines. Learn to be a tough soldier like the infamous Kal'Reegar. Keep pride to the family name. Its what his parents might have wanted. Now…he didn't know what **he** wanted. Both his parents died for the fleet…for him. All he had were memories he could barely remember and no one left to call family. Both parents lost to the geth…both his parents to the whim of the Admiralty board. And now old wounds festered to the surface and ripped open like he was seven years old again.

_"Why won't mom come home?"_

_Dorn kneeled to his son._

_"She's…she's gone Jona. She…is with our ancestors now."_

_He couldn't remember how quiet he stayed._

_"When will she be back?"_

_The tight embrace of Dorn told him more than his words. A sinking feeling that something was wrong. The weeps he heard behind his father's helmet._

SHUTTLE IS NOW ARRIVING IN DOCKING BAY 94. THANK YOU. AND HAVE A WONDERFUL TRIP.

The Citadel still had the technological charm about it. It was his first visit ever and was nothing compared to the grim and bleak stories he'd heard of it. Reapers and destruction were vacant from the brightly lit symbol of defiance and power. As he walked past customs, it was his first experience seeing so many other races at once. From Rannoch and the little he remembered living on the Qwib Qwib, seeing other races was rare if not ever seen. Geth were more memorable for reasons both good and bad. To see so many different people was a welcoming reminder that there was more than just Rannoch and the fleet.

He checked the air filters on his helmet. Not because he had to anymore, but because it was an automatic thing he was taught to do. Donning the environmental suit was still common. For some it was a way of life hard to part from. Others it was a symbol of their struggles wandering the stars. To Jona, it was all he ever knew. There was a slight envy to the newborns who would never understand.

At the presidium, the view was indescribable. The water was almost too perfect and clean. The skyway soared above his head. He couldn't believe he was standing in the same place that was the site of terrorists, geth, and reaper attacks. There was small sitting area was quiet and away from the financial market. He stared up at the monuments both new and old. The ones that survived the war still stood even with bits of them blown off. A testament of their resilience. The newest quarian statue struck Jona. Though officially not someone in particular it was modeled after Admiral Tali'Zorah vas Normandy. He gripped the guardrail as his memories flooded again. Alone as she walked into his room.

_"Hey little guy."_

_He could remember getting starry eyed. Seeing the quarian he admired on the vids and stories in class._

_"Tali? Wow!"_

_She sat next to him on the floor._

_"You're the coolest!"_

_He was sure she blushed. His excitement was short lived when he noticed his dad's best friend with her head in her hands; shaking._

_"What's wrong?"_

_"Umm. Jona. Its about your dad, Dorn."_

_The sound of her voice. The same as his father when he told him about his mother. So young, but he knew. His head hung low._

_"He with the ancestors too…with mom?"_

_Tali was doing her best. It never got easier for her. Even more so that she was at the same home again. She had told his father about his mother. Now she was telling the son about his father._

_"Yes…and he wanted you to know…he made it to Rannoch."_

_It was all she could think to say. For the child, Dorn making it to Rannoch was not important. Missing his parents was. Though he felt a tear move down his covered face he didn't cry. He wouldn't. She was surprised when he stood up firm and tall._

_"Dad told me mom wanted me to be strong. I want to help fight."_

_Tali heard the crack in his voice. She desperately tried kept her composure at the sight of this child. The strength he tried to show. The innocence lost from years of war. She slowly reached around him in a tight embrace. It sent Jona over the edge. It reminded him of his mother. The tight yet gentleness in her arms…it was the same. The hugs she gave him when she tucked him into bed before leaving for important tasks. The last hug she gave him when she left and never came home. He caved and bawled in Tali's arms as she shed silent tears._

"Is it horrible I would have traded Rannoch to have you guys back?"

He felt the tear stream down his cheek. Once again happy that his visor hid himself. More thankful for the handrail as he kept himself from buckling.

"It's quite a lovely statue isn't it?"

Jona turned to his side to view little asari gazing up at the statue. He wasn't good with Asari ages, but she was a child, couldn't be more than two decades old.

"Yeah. It is."

He did his best to hide any upset in his voice.

"You seem a little young. Where's your mom?"

"She is running the gift shop. I wanted to come down and just stare at the statues. I think they mean something different for everyone. Only this and the Shepard are the only girl statues."

The little girl had a point. Quarians were once despised on the Citadel. Now they are commemorated with a permanent presence. In the corner of his eye he noticed her gaze moved to the krogan statue. It seemed to resonate with her.

"You like the krogan statue? I imagine the statues of krogan on Tuchanka are three times as big."

There was a small silence until the asari replied.

"They are."

That was a surprise. He wouldn't have thought such a very young asari had been to Tuchanka.

"You've seen pics on the extra-net?"

"Nope. I used to live there."

"Really…you've lived on Tuchanka?"

"My daddy's krogan."

"That must be fun. He toss you on his shoulder and carry you around?"

He heard the few sniffs from the little girl. He knew instantly and felt horrible for it.

"I never knew my dad. Mom told me he left...to keep the bad people away."

Her little head had sagged as she rubbed the tears from her now red eyes. He took a knee to meet her height.

"I'm really really sorry. I…I lost my dad too. And my mom."

It hurt actually saying it for the first time.

"Did...did they try to keep the bad people away?"

So innocent. A world she would never know. He was grateful that it'd be a only footnote in the history books to her.

"Yeah. Yeah. They kept the bad people away."

The waterworks slowed and she wiped away the rest on her sleeve. Faint as it was, he caught a smile.

"Rosa!"

Jona looked up to see an asari woman running frantically towards them and scooped the little one in her arms.

"Rosa, you can't run off like that. You can't wander away from me. I can't lose you."

"You always get upset when we come here, mom. I didn't want to see you cry again."

The woman smiled, desperately tried to hide her tears now that she knew her daughter was fine. Her daughter was thinking of her, so much of her husband in her.

"Okay. No more crying. Okay?"

The girl nodded her little head and she hugged her tighter. By this time Jona was back on his feet. His hands fumbled a bit; unsure of what to do.

"He lost his mommy and daddy too."

She acknowledge Jona's presence after the overwhelming worry had past and put her daughter down.

"Can he get a hug too?"

The mother looked back at the quarian. He nodded his head slightly to ensure her it was alright.

"Sure."

The little girl walked up to Jona and gave him a very strong hug for a girl her size. Must be the krogan in her. When she was done she walked back to her mom.

"Honey. You can look at the statues for a few more minutes."

The girl's eyes widened with glee as she moved back towards the railing to leave Jona and the mother to themselves.

"I'm sorry if she was disturbing you."

"No. No. Um…your husband sounded like a good man."

"Thank you. I'm sorry for your loss."

Jona nodded.

"The galaxy is a fertile plane of soil. Some seeds grow immense. Others are swept away and foiled. Sometimes...the plants wither for their seeds at their own expense. Whether its bad weather or encroaching vines, the sun can and will one day shine."

The asari was taken back from the words of the quarian.

"You...you like poetry?"

"A little. It helps dealing with...well everything sometimes."

The mother was hesitant for a moment before she spoke with a sad smile.

"My Charr...he was a great poet. Loved to woo me, as embarrassing as it could be sometimes. He recited them from memory…it actually how he convinced me to be with him."

Her tone lowered the more she thought about him.

"…he recorded his last words…they were a poem before he died."

She wasn't necessarily speaking to Jona. It was a memory that she kept alive. Only a few months she had with him when it should have spanned centuries.

"If its any consolation, I know exactly what that's like."

The asari looked up at the statues.

"Funny. This is where so many battles took place yet we run here to escape the memories of the war."

Even Jona found that amusing as he shared a chuckle with her.

"Maybe its because we won…and we can return here after it was all over. That has to count for something."

The asari turned back to the young quarian.

"My name is Ereba."

"Jona'Hazt nar Qwib Qwib."

His gloved fingers met her delicate blue hand.

"Nice to meet you. You thirsty? I keep dextro lemonade at the gift shop."

"Umm. Sure."

When Ereba called Rosa, she grabbed both Ereba's and Jona's hand. The two shared an awkward glance and the trio walked towards the shop; passing a proud krogan with his small son.

"So you were born a ship called Qwib Qwib?" Ereba asked.

Jona laughed for the first time that he could remember.

"Yeah. Funny story about the name."

* * *

This story was in my head since I started "Antiquated Love"; had to finish it.


	2. Chapter 2: Father and Son

No less than twenty years ago, a paragraph in the life of a Krogan, would he dreamed he'd have been on the Citadel. Now it was something of a habit. Part of his job as a security guard on transport ships meant ensuring cargo met their destinations. This one was a little different. He had dragged his son along. It wasn't an easy job raising a son on his own, but he had managed through a war. This was more of a vacation for the youngling. His first trip to the Citadel in all its glory.

Still, he could recall when he realized he was his.

_"Were you around when the female camps sent the children over last week," he asked his friend._

_"No I was out dealing with a varren attack. Why? Any promising warriors?"_

_"One of the children...probably five years from the rite? He had my eyes I think."_

_"Think you actually had a fertile female on one of your trips to their camp?"_

_"I...I must have…a child…my son. We played tackle the varren. It was...he was good. Fast. Strong."_

_"Of course he was. Any son of yours must be. Good for you. We'll get a ryncol to celebrate."_

_"Then they went back to the female camp...it was so fast. I didn't get to talk to him. Should I ask the female clan for rite of parentage?"_

_"Why bother with all the politics? You know you sired a son. That's enough."_

_"But I could teach him to hunt. The best way to shoot a gun. To fight with honor and savagery."_

_"You can do that next time they bring the children."_

_"It's not the same. I just wish…I don't know…that things could be different. That we could live together. Us, the women, and the children."_

_"You know we can't. We'd just be one big weak target. We have to keep the fertile females safe. The children safer."_

_"Damn the genophage. I think…I'll take you up on that ryncol later…"_

That little glimmer of hope was everything he needed and he knew at that moment. All he wanted was a family. To be a father.

"Dad?"

His' son's voice yanked him from his thoughts.

"Why did you bring me all the way here?

The plates on his son's head had almost formed into a solid piece. His hump was slightly bigger than most kids his age. Already he earned scars from both the rite and those who thought less of him. The younger ones thought he was tainted being born during the genophage. The elders saw him as a strong breed for surviving at a time when few were conceived. In less than two decades things were drastically different than the six hundred years he'd been alive.

"This is the Citadel. Great warriors have come and gone. Monuments to their success stand tall, including your own."

His son looked at the giant Krogan statue. It paled in comparison to Tuchanka's and was far older and rugged.

"Doesn't look all that impressive."

"You young pup. When you get to be my age you'll appreciate how some things are still the same."

Despite passing by it numerous times it never lost its appeal to the old Krogan. It was merely a holo on the extra-net in his day. That's all. Something that was untouchable. Now he was standing before it.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Why don't I have any other brothers or sisters? All my other friends have a lot of them."

The father sighed. His son was at that age where he was asking the big questions. Not about guns or explosives. Family and clan. Though the extra-net provided the answers about Krogan history, it was still customary to ask the elders; they had lived through the same history. And that footnote was always the hardest one to explain. Not because of the genetic witchcraft, but the feelings that resurfaced by its mention.

"Well you see...there was a time when Krogan fem...um...mothers couldn't have many children at once. It was very difficult."

"Didn't that mean they just had to try…harder?"

His father smirked to himself at the youth. This generation saw sex more for fun than offspring.

"It wasn't just a matter of nothing happening. Something always...happened."

His son watched his father's eyes fall to the ground.

"Many many piles of...stillborn...they covered Tuchanka. Can you imagine a thousand little corpses for every child you've seen?"

"...um no. I can't."

"And by the gods I'm glad thats something you never have to see. Laying a child that could have been yours amongst more of the dead. It demoralized so many. Left us with nothing real to fight for. It was a war we couldn't fight. Just a plague that loomed over us for a thousand years."

A relative silence was shared between the young and old until a question broke it.

"Was it true it was cured by a Salarian?"

He chuckled at the irony.

"Yes it was. Some of the elders shudder at the thought…as do some of the older Salarians…but the name Mordin is on the same tier as Wrex and Shepard."

He turned to his son and looked him in the eyes.

"Never. Take your life for granted. Respect every gift the gods give you. In an instant...they could be taken away just as quickly."

His son stood straight and proud, which was still something hard to get used to. It was hard seeing him grow up from the little welp he held in his arms not so long ago.

"So…I'm special," asked the young one.

His father's smile was shaky. Krogans don't cry. It was a truth because they didn't have the glands in their eyes. But if he could, he would have then.

"You're my son," he spoke with an iron voice as he patted his son's shoulder. It conveyed all the pride and love he had for him.

"Come on. How about we take you to the Fish Dog Food Shack like I promised."

The young Krogan nearly bellowed over.

"Still treat me like a kid, Dad."

He through an arm over and the two headed for the Citadel shops. They passed more memorials of both the old and the new scars. But he had his son. It was all he needed.


	3. Chapter 3: Reunion

"Surprise sweetheart."

The Turian's voice wasn't sad nor happy. It was a very controlled, neutral tone that could only be from someone holding back.

"I know you must be getting sick and tired of me visiting you every year...but its tradition."

His bare talons nervously grasped a bouquet of delicate flowers. They were an array of red, blue, and violet.

"They're your favorite. I remember you telling me about how much you loved picking these on Thessia. I remember you almost scolded me for how much I spent to get them. It was almost two weeks' pay, but…"

He had to stop himself for a moment.

"…you smiled so big…you were so happy…I knew it right then and there."

That was when he lowered his head in shame.

"I shouldn't have gone," he muttered, "Damn the Turian hierarchy. When I heard the Reapers hit the Citadel the first thing I should have done was stolen a shuttle and came back. Come back to you and our girls."

His hands tensed crumpling the paper wrapping the flowers. His jaw clamped tight, but he could stop his mandibles from fidgeting.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this. In the long run, I'd have passed and you'd raise our girls for hundreds of years to come. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

The Turian stood amidst a giant slab of stone. He never tore his eyes from the it. It was clearly not from the Citadel, but that's why it was there. It was a natural presence in the vast of technology. It stuck out as a reminder that could not be forgotten.

"Never would have thought in a million years…I'd lose you."

A bare talon reached the memorial of all the names that perished on Citadel until he caressed hers. His fringe leaned against the monument. It was cold and hard, but he could imagine warmth and soft touch of his wife when they kissed. When their fringes met. He felt the indentation of the first time he almost scratched his talon into it fourteen years ago. It had dulled and smoothed. It was a slow progress, but it was progress.

"Dad?"

"I'm okay, Niri," he quietly said.

He laid the flowers down and stood back on his feet. An Asari as tall as his shoulders squeezed his hand. Another, the oldest and as tall as him, wrapped her arms around him. He was so grateful that he still had them. Never would he have forgave himself if they had gone to that Sanctuary place like he asked. They sniffled, but they didn't cry. Their girls had grown up so strong. He would always see that little bit of her in them for as long as he was alive.

"Happy anniversary, Honey."


End file.
